Break Away
by Kitskune Miyake
Summary: One year ago, Scott Northton moved to Tuscon, Arizona. One year ago, Kid Flash disappeared from the hero gig. As far as he knows, that has nothing to do with his boring life...as far as he knows. Suddenly, life picks up the pace as he gets thrust into a world that he was sure he'd never see: the world of superheroics. CH 3- "Take that you...Wally?"
1. Chapter 1

Just wanna try something...I hope you like Scott. And don't be surprised if I don't update frequently. Sorry, but that's just my problem. Like I say, sorry. I'm gonna try since it's summer, but I promise nothing.

I actually kinda like this, unlike some of the other stuff I've written. Umm...I hope you like it too!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Scott (for now...)

* * *

Scott threw open the door and threw down his books by the umbrella stand. Considering that he lived in Tuscon, Arizona, the glorified bucket was hardly necessary, but for once, this tirade wasn't running through his brain. Today, he was cursing Jason and Alex, the school jock(_straps_) who insisted on making his life difficult. They had been jostling his belongings, shoving him against lockers, and throwing wadded papers at him since he moved there nearly a year ago with his mom. In truth, Scott had _always_ had trouble with bullies. Starting at kindergarten, he was the acknowledged punching bag in times of stress or boredom. No matter how unassuming and normal he tried to make himself seem, they saw him as weaker than even the short, mousy ones. There was even a time in fifth grade when the mousy kid was harassing him._  
_

He never really bothered his mom about it. It wasn't worth getting her already occupied mind in a tizzy. As a single mother, she worked near constantly to make ends meet. Scott hardly saw her at home, but it was probably better this way. At least, he thought so.

The couch was a few mere feet away from the entrance to the apartment, but it was still a hassle to walk that distance for Scott. Today, Jason thought it would be fun to kick his shins for "soccer practice." He tried fending them off, but he could only attempt so halfheartedly. The principal was breathing down on his neck, waiting for him to do something bad. Scott already had two strikes on his record: one for getting in a fight (_he was only defending himself)_, and another for selling exam answers (_Leo had shoved those into his hands at the last moment_). The two suspensions had seriously dented his academic record, and with everyone on staff out to get him, Scott had to work to keep his shaky record where it was._  
_

He sprawled across the semi-firm cushion, groaning in relief as the pressure shifted away from his aching shins. Life was miserable, but any other lifestyle was a mere dream.

Scott shifted, turning so his back faced the television. He was probably the only kid in the world who was still trapped in the pre-2010 world of non-HD, but it didn't matter to him. A better world existed in his dreams, cheesy as that sounded. It was a dream world he had been visiting since the big move to Tucson. For once in his life, he wasn't the loser science dweeb that came home with bruised shins every day. He had friends, a team if you would, and family.

Best of all, he was a superhero. Who wouldn't love that?

It was a love-hate deal with this world. Most of the time, he couldn't remember the dreams, knowing only that they were excellent. There were a few times that he would wake up feeling sorer and more beat up than he had felt the previous night. Most nights were vague flashes of colors: forest greens, pitch blacks, stoplight reds. Other times, all he could recall were voices, saying words that ended up garbled when he tried to remember them. A bubbly female voice, a gravelly female voice, two hyper-masculine voices. His favorite one floated higher on the register, though it was still obviously a male. He remembered this one the best. No people he knew had voices like them, but any voice that came even close gave him a warm tingling inside. Although, no one could recreate their laughs.

Scott never told anyone about it. Most of his classmates were over the superhero phase. He had once mentioned it to his mom once in passing, but the worried look on her face silenced him. Maybe it was the word "superhero." Dinah Northton seemed to have an issue with superheroes, especially the Justice League of America. It was an unspoken rule of the Northton household to never speak of America's protectors lest they make the headlines.

Scott knew it wasn't healthy to retreat to this world to find happiness, but nobody at Connell High School seemed keen on letting him live contently. He had considered running away a few times, but his mom was all he had, and he was all she had. Call him a mama's boy, but he loathed the idea of upsetting his mother's pretty face. His dream hero team, dubbed affectionately by him as the Junior Justice League, was his secret escape. Mentioning it at school would only force him further down the food chain.

Closing his eyes, he fell back into the dream world…

* * *

_It was his birthday. He wasn't with the team, at least not yet. A quick stop at the doctor's office, and his arm cast was off. He wasn't quite sure how he got it in the first place, but it probably was another lost dream…_

_Now he was digging into a delicious birthday cake. Icing was everywhere, but he and the team just laughed it off. His eyes flitted to the faces, but they were still out of focus. He tried focusing, but he still couldn't see their faces…_

_Something was whispered in his ear. He felt his spirits fall, but he didn't know why. A cackle erupted from the opposite side of the room…_

_Cold. It was freaking cold. He was running impossibly fast, but why? He was shaking—no, vibrating. Maybe from the bitter winter, maybe from the speed. But he couldn't stop, no matter how much he tried to shake it off…_

* * *

His eyes flew open, turning instinctively to the clock atop the television. 5:20 in the afternoon. His eyes flicked in the opposite direction, landing on the face of his mother. She wasn't very old, certainly no more than 30, with shiny blond hair and strong but beautiful features. If she wasn't his mom, he could certainly see why men would flock to her. She certainly stood out among the frumpy middle-aged mothers of his classmates. The mothers always gossiped against her, but she could still hold her head high because, unlike most of them, her child didn't hate her, even if he really wasn't her biological son.

"Hey, Scott," she said, her voice low and tired. "How're you doing, babe?"

"'M okay," he said vaguely, his voice thick with sleep. "How was work?"

"A bitch," she replied simply. He gave a short laugh. She always responded the same way every day since the Move. "Boss was as _pleasant_ and _positive_ as ever," she explained sarcastically. Her boss, from what he could garner, was one of those grumpy men who took no shit and sucked the fun out of life. "Not to mention, the latest project ended_ fan-freaking-tastically_!" It didn't take a scientist to hear the frustration. Scott was awake by now, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing inwardly at the pain. Something must have given him away though, because his mom's eyes narrowed.

"You sure you're alright?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm fine," he responded a little too quickly. He cursed inwardly.

She deftly rolled up his jeans, brushing the bruising slightly. Her eyes widened slightly at the bruising.

"Who did this? Was it those Drake boys? The Jensen kid?"

"'S not as bad as earlier, he said, ineffectively dodging the question. "Swelling's gone dow—AAH!" He hissed as his mom pressed down on a particularly dark patch.

"Don't give me that shit. Lie still, I'll get you some ice." She walked over to the freezer, scooping some ice into a Ziploc baggie. She wrapped it in a semi-clean dishtowel and tossed it at him. He deftly caught it and gingerly lowered it onto his aching legs. Okay, he had lied; they still hurt like _hell_. After the initial recoil from the cold, he relaxed, slowly feeling the pain go away.

"Thanks, Ma," he eventually said. She smiled tiredly at him.

"S'okay, Scotty. It's what I'm supposed to do. Now go do your homework, or sleep or something. I need a nap. Dinner's in the fridge."

He nodded, only half-hearing her words. It crossed his mind that she was home a little early from work, but he let it slide. He pulled out his AP Chemistry textbook and started flipping through, leisurely working out some practice problems. _An atom in its ground state contains 30 electrons..._

* * *

Going to school the next day wasn't too difficult. The leftover Chinese takeout in the fridge was saved for breakfast, and the filling meal made getting up and ready easier. The pain in Scott's legs had faded to a dull ache, which he could tolerate well enough to get through school. His homework was done, and his clothes were presentable enough. All in all, the start of the day was pretty good.

It couldn't last, though. It just _couldn't_. Alex and Jason, along with a few other friends, were waiting for him at the entrance of the school. They lined either side of the double-door entrance, allowing all other kids to pass with little to no hassle. However, their eyes were trained on him, practically _inviting_ him to come at them. He really didn't want to run that gauntlet, but his attendance record left _much_ to be desired, a fault totally not his own; the bullying made it downright impossible to move some days. He had been keeping track, and he couldn't afford missing another day without incurring a suspension.

The crowd was thinning out. Two minutes until class started. The leery grins sent a nasty shiver up his spine. _To hell with it all_, he thought to himself. _I'm gonna get this over with as quickly as possible._ He shook himself and stretched, as if he was a runner preparing for the biggest race of his life. One minute thirty seconds. He looked at the door, totally ignoring the awaiting gauntlet. He closed his eyes and breathed out. He walked a little closer. One minute fifteen seconds. He scrunched his eyes closed. Suddenly, he broke into a run.

A voice laughed in the back of his head. He had a feeling that this should be ominous, but he was too busy running his heart out.

Looking up, he saw everything moving in slow motion. It was like something out of a movie or a dream. He could see their fists coming at him, but it was slow enough for him to dodge. He could see their muscles tensing and releasing as they moved; it was quite laughable, had he not been in such a hurry. He made a beeline for his homeroom (he had his textbook for first period in his back) and sat down. He looked down at his watch: thirty seconds. His eyes widened, and he looked around. Everything seemed to move in slow motio.n

Suddenly reality seemed to snap back. Voices snapped into their proper range, as opposed to the deep slow-mo voice. Paper airplanes continued their path at normal velocity, though Scott could see their paths and dodged accordingly. A few heads gave him a double-take. They could have _sworn_ he wasn't there a few seconds ago.

However, there was no time to worry about that. The bell had rung, and Scott's stomach gave a huge grumble.

* * *

The live slow-motion didn't give him any more trouble for the next five periods, but the growling in his stomach did. Even the history teacher snapped out of his lecture to glare at his thunderous stomach. A few kids laughed, and all Scott could do was duck his head in shame.

Halfway through fourth period (geometry), Scott excused himself and made a beeline to his locker. The hunger was actually starting to hurt now, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed his lunch, a pastrami sandwich and a Twinkie, and scarfed it down. The pain went down, and for a moment, he felt sated. As he walked back to the classroom, the pangs started again.

"Damn it all," he growled to himself. _You know what, I'll just put up with this, whatever the hell it is._

Lunch (sixth period) was particularly torturous. Having already eaten his lunch, he was forced to absorb the smells and sights of all the other lunches around him. It was a nightmare. Scott tried picking off his best (read: only) friend's lunch, but James was getting pissed off. He kept flipping his long bangs broodily and growling in a stereotypically emo-ish way. Some found it weird that the strange, gothic emo-boy would befriend a bright but stifled character like Scott, but nobody gave it much thought. After all, two loser birds of a feather _would _flock together.

"Sheesh, Northton," James, who Scott affectionately called Jem, sighed emo-ly, "it's almost as if you want me to starve."

"I'm leaving food for you, aren't I?" Scott countered.

"You know what, you can have it. I'm not hungry anyways." He stood up and walked away.

"Whurff foo gohng?" he said.

Jem rolled his eyes. "The library. I need to catch up on the Hundred Years War notes."

Scott inhaled the rest of the food. "Wait, I'll come with." He got up and ran (at a normal speed) towards his friend, grabbing his hand as he caught up. Jem's eyes widened and he slapped his hand away.

"Don't do that!" he hissed angrily. Scott put up his hands as a sign of surrender. "Sorry," Jem finally said, looking away. He rubbed his wrists awkwardly. "It's just...you know..." Scott didn't know, but he didn't say anything.

The two walked in silence towards the large library. Crappy though the school was, Scott was rather fond of the library. It was big enough to get lost in if you weren't familiar with it. He was pitifully familiar with the place, it being his main hideout from Jason and Alex. He and Jem sat down and started going through notes. He was able to forget his hunger pangs as he buried himself in the tortuously detailed notes. Some time later, the bell rang, and the two returned to the high school world.

Scott was _seriously_ regretting not bringing more food, and the regret grew as each minute passed by. He actually got kicked out of class because the teacher thought he was playing some sound effects on his phone. As he sat in the halls, he curled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on it, allowing all the stress of the day to hit him. Somehow, he felt that the super-speed he managed to tap into, if only for a moment, was a gift of pure _suck_. He closed his eyes; maybe the hunger wouldn't affect him if he was asleep.

"What's up, ginger?" He opened his eyes. Of _fucking_ course.

"What do you want, Alex?" Scott said, burying his face into his knees. _Looking at them would only make the problem worse_ he told himself. "And don't tell me you're falling back on the redhead jokes again. Those are so inane."

"Shut up, Northton!" A kick to his unprotected side. Scott gasped sharply, looking up at the sky out of reflex. Alex grabbed his hair, slamming his head into the wall. Jason, who must have gotten kicked out of class too, kicked him. Scott let out a cry. Light brown eyes, washed out by a delinquent attitude, met his own brilliant green eyes. The leery spark in them intimidated Scott, but he was sick of it: the fear, the bullying, the _god damn_ submissiveness.

"This is a harassment-free zone, Mr. Jensen. Unless you can't read the signs." He gestured upward at a non-existent sign on the wall. It was all the distraction he needed. The idiots looked up, and Scott let his foot kick out, knocking Alex backwards. Jason looked away from the wall at Scott, but it was too late. He had popped up from the ground and swung his arm out, first curled. The give of his flesh was satisfying to the over-bullied boy, and the sound of his head slamming against the wall was melodious. Suddenly, he felt his ankle jerk from under him. Alex had grabbed his leg and pulled him to the ground. As he hit the ground, the bullies recovered and got up.

"What the _fuck_ is up with Firecrotch today?" Alex muttered.

"Looks like we'll have to teach him a lesson," Jason quipped.

"Sorry, but teachers need a higher IQ than their students. You aren't even qualified to teach a light-bulb to turn on." The two faces above him contorted in anger, and their feet raised above him again. They came down hard on his abdomen, and he cried out in pain. The stomping and kicks were agonizing, and tears sprang to his eyes. His eyes scrunched shut in a vain attempt to block out the pain. Slowly though, it felt as if the kicks were slowing. He risked opening his eyes again.

He seemed to have slipped into the slo-mo state. The muscles were tensing and releasing, but in a way that was far too slow to do any good. He simply got up and out of the way. The speed of reality snapped back to normal so he could see their stunned faces. "How did he-?" "What the-?" The blathering was entertaining, but Scott had more pressing matters on his mind. He jogged over and punched them both. The two actually left the ground, flying back a couple feet before hitting the ground. Alex's nose was bleeding, and Jason was already sporting a particularly nasty bruise.

He could have stopped. Could have, but didn't. He knew it was wrong, but the pent up hate that had been threatening to break him since the beginning of the year was finally given a chance to air itself. It was like being high or drunk, not that he really knew what that was like. Sometimes, they moved at the speed of reality, other times in slow motion. Was that what being high felt like? He didn't know, nor did he care to dwell on it. He was having _way_ too much fun pounding their faces in.

It was too late when he realized how caught up in his hate he really was. A bell had rung, probably to end eighth period. Scott stepped back to admire his handiwork. The pleasure lasted a second before he got caught up in the actual horror of the situation. The two boys were bloodied and purple with bruises. Alex's arm was twisted awkwardly, and Jason was sprawled out, a very distinct muddy footprint on his abdomen.

Students had already started filling the hallways; a scream of horror pierced the hall, echoing despite the growing cacophony. Eyes were drawn away from lockers and friends and instead focused on Scott, his clothes speckled with traces of blood, his hands balled, his fiery red hair askew. They started closing in on him, and he panicked. He darted for the door, tapping into that strange state. Everything slowed down, and he managed to dodge the grabby hands as he sprinted to the door.

He kept running. _Don't stop_ a voice inside him screamed. _For God's sake, don't _freaking _stop_! In a matter of moments, he was back home, which was twenty minutes away by bus. The super speed stuttered as he reached the apartment. He tripped over the curb, hitting the ground hard. He picked himself up, dusted off the dirt, and jogged at a regular pace to his apartment, which was only on the second floor.

Scott locked the door and made a beeline for the fridge. He grabbed whatever he could carry and brought it too his room. Curled up on his bed, he gorged on suspicious leftovers and pudding cups until the hunger died to a dull pain. He could tolerate that. As he began to settle back into what he considered to be a relatively normal pace, the phone rang. He jumped, dashing over (at a normal speed) and looking at the caller ID. It was the school. He couldn't face what he did, not now at least. Scott walked to the bathroom instead, remembering the nasty blood spatters on his clothes.

He hurriedly threw off the ruined T-shirt and looked into the mirror, ready to face a nastily bruised torso...

...but saw nothing.

"What the hell is going on with me?" he muttered, looking to the mirror for answers. Unsurprisingly, none came.

* * *

Ehh...I'm not totally satisfied. But I like it decently enough.

How can I improve? Tear this apart, find all the little flaws please. If you liked/didn't like something, please tell me. I've been told that I can overwrite, and that my plot progression is weird. Any tips overall? I want all your constructive criticisms, flames, praises, etc.


	2. Chapter 2

**Urgh...I could have been done a while back. Oh well, better late than never. Thanks for picking it up for a read.**

**Umm, so when I came up with this, these first two chapters were not part of my vision. I needed some exposition though, so I created them. I get ideas like movie clips, and they aren't even complete. If my writing ever seems uneven, this is probably the explanation.**

**Personally, I think you should pull up a review window and write a review as you go. I want to know all your thoughts as this chapter progresses. I didn't really like it, but I think it needed to be written.**

**Disclaimer: Me no own YJ.**

* * *

He spent a few more minutes examining his unmarked torso. Confusion twisted inside his head. He was certain that some of those scars would never fade, certainly if they had been there only the day before. He traced a shapeless pattern on his gut, certain that there had been a bruise there from three days ago. Pulling down the dirty jeans, he saw that the only thing marring his otherwise peach-tan skin was a sprinkling of freckles.

It was all connected, he reasoned. By some crazy way, the slo-mo speed, lack of freckles, and severe hunger pangs (which were slowly edging back) were related. He just couldn't place it.

A knock at the door. He jumped, scared and embarrassed as his mother opened the bathroom door, and all he wore was his underwear.  
She rushed forward and held here adopted son in her arms, words tumbling out of her mouth.

"The school called me, and they said you ran off after beating up some kids. I know there's a logical explanation for this, but what's going on, Scott? I know that those kids probably had it coming, but violence isn't a way to deal with this. You always did have a problem with self-control, though not as bad as-" She stopped, realizing her rambling. She closed her eyes and held him close. "You probably don't want to talk. How about we get some food, then we'll sit down for a chat?"

She started walking away, and all Scott could do was stand stock still in the middle of the bathroom. Slowly, he snapped out of...whatever state he was in and left the bathroom. Seven minutes later, the two left the apartment and walked a couple blocks to their favorite ice cream parlor. It was one of those small mom-an'-pop parlors, so it wasn't very crowded when they arrived. The two ordered the usual (a scoop of strawberry for her and chocolate with brownie bits for him) and sat down, enjoying their ice cream for a few minutes in silence.

Scott wasn't dying of hunger like earlier in the day, but he wasn't satiated by the double scoop. He had lucked out when he found a few bills in his pocket (_I really should start emptying my pockets _he thought), so he went up to the counter and bought yet another cone, this time rocky road with extra marshmallows. _  
_

As he dug into the second cone, his mother watched him. For once, there wasn't a look of disgust on her face at his lack of manners. He pretended not to notice as he tried to place the look. It was...well, it wasn't affectionate, but he couldn't find the word...reminiscent, perhaps?

"What happened?" she said softly. Scott looked up at his mom, a smudge of ice cream dripping from the corner of his mouth. He wiped his mouth, pretending like the ice cream held his full attention. "Don't try to BS me, Scott. What happened?" He couldn't put it off any longer. He leaned back against the chair.

"They were beating on me again, so I stood up for myself. Nothing more to it really." _Yep, no weird slow-motion reality_ he told himself.

"There's obviously more to it," she said. "I _saw_ those boys myself." _Crap_, he thought. She let out a sigh, almost as if releasing some unexplained tension. "Scotty, there's something you aren't telling me. I can't do a thing if you don't speak up." She looked at him expectantly. When he didn't respond, she continued eating the ice cream.

_It's a bit more complicated than that_ he thought bitterly. _"Mom, life is slowing down around me inexplicably. I might be going crazy!" Yeah, that sounds like something I can tell her_. He thoughtfully bit into the cone. "You aren't going to believe me," he finally said.

She looked up at him. "Scott," she responded. "I've seen and heard many things in my life. It's kinda hard to surprise me."

_I wouldn't be too sure_. "It's really weird! It kinda feels like everything is slowing down except not, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do and I'm kinda freaking out! I didn't want you to think I'm crazy, and I swear I'm not, but argh!" The words tumbled out quickly, and at points he didn't think he was very comprehensible. He looked away from her, not wanting to face what he thought was certain confusion. Tension filled the empty ice cream parlor.

"Scott." He lifted his head and met her eyes. They weren't confused like he thought they would be. They were...was that fear? "God, I hoped this day wouldn't come."

"Day? What day?"

"Damn it all to hell. They're gonna be _pissed_."

"_Who's_ gonna be pissed? Mom, you aren't making any sense."

She looked to Scott, her expression unreadable. He tried to find the words to describe it, but words fell short. "Scott, we have to go somewhere." She got up and started towards the door, but he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not moving until you give me an explanation." His jaw was set adamantly as he stared up at her. The two stared intensely, neither willing to surrender. Finally, her line of view shifted away, a sure sign of defeat.

* * *

_Fine, you want an explanation? I can give you one. I don't have all the information, so I don't know what I can say._

_First off, you aren't my kid. Don't give me that look! I know you see me as your adopted mother, but it's...complicated. I never adopted you, but you were never in the system in the first place. As far as the system's concerned, Dinah and Scott Northton popped onto the face of the planet a year ago._

_Beforehand...stuff happened. It's pretty convoluted, and I'd run the risk of messing it up if I tried to explain it. Regardless, you needed to disappear from your old life. Yeah, it has to do with your incoming abilities  
_

_I always knew you were a metahuman. That's the technical term. I guess if you want a more specific word, you're a speedster, like the Flash. You know the Flash, right? Course you do, I've seen the posters. From what he's told me- let me finish! Yeah, from what he's told me, speedster powers come from this thing called the Speed Force. I don't know how it works exactly, but it's some dimension that you can tap into. He told me you need a lot of focus, but it eventually falls into a habit. It gets ingrained into your memory, and accessing it becomes easier.  
_

_This is where it gets a bit tricky...maybe I should let Bats explain this...doesn't matter now. I don't know the specifics, but what I know is that...well, you were more or less brainwashed. All your memories from before the Move were fabricated.  
_

_...  
_

_...Scott?_

* * *

He tore out of the parlor, running fast and hard. Though her words were few, they stung more than any insult ever thrown at him.

_No_ he thought. _Those insults never came at me. All those years of torture...fake. What sick person would fabricate a history like that? _How_ did someone fabricate somethin__g like that?_ He skidded to a halt, allowing gravity to pull him forward onto the grass outside their apartment. He pulled himself into sitting position, curling his knees in and resting his chin on them. He sobbed into them, turning his back to the street. He didn't want to go back to the apartment; if his memories had been a setup, surely the apartment was one as well.

Though he wanted to avoid her at all costs, Scott wasn't surprised when a pair of arms wrapped around him, muttering what he assumed were comforting words into his ear. He was mad at his mom-no, _Dinah_-and refused to look at her, instead keeping his eyes pressed to his knees.

"...Scott? Oh God, I didn't mean for all this to happen. Scott, listen to me." Dinah got up and crouched to his level in front of him. She pushed his head back so he would look at her, but he averted his eyes stubbornly. "Now that all this," she waved her arms vaguely, "is affecting you now, we need to leave. I need to get you examined." She got up and started walking away, but he didn't budge. "Fine," she said, getting up, "I guess you don't want to leave Tuscon, never go back to your school, meet the Flash..." She still wasn't getting a response. "...Ride in the BatJet..."

Scott instantly perked up and looked at her. "No way," he said, his voice low with amazement. "You know Batman?"

She snorted. "Oh, Flash won't be happy...anyways, yeah. I do. It's kinda...part of the job."

"But, I thought you worked in one of those office places. Human resources, or something..." Then he remembered that it was his memory that told him that, and he most certainly couldn't trust his memories.

"Mama's a lot cooler than you think, Scotty-boy." He blushed at the childhood nickname, but remembered that it was one of those supposed memories from his past. God, he really hated his brain.

* * *

The BatJet had no landing room within the confines of the city, so the two were forced to drive outside of the city parameters for five hours into the middle of the desert. Scott didn't particularly care: he wasn't the one driving, and he was going to meet the GODDAMN Batman (yes, he was aware that he probably shouldn't use such a title for the caped vigilante). It wasn't anything special, and it felt especially slow now that he had superspeed. He idly wondered if other speedsters-at least, he thought that was the term-felt this way.

Some time between the first thirty minutes and the first hour, he fell asleep, letting himself drift off.

* * *

_"What in God's name did you do to yourself!" It was the girl with the gravelly voice. He couldn't see a thing, but he felt something close around him. Arms, probably a female's, but they were so much more muscled than any of the cheerleaders or gymnasts he ogled at. "Holy crap, we need to get you to the medical bay!"_

_"No problem, babe," he heard himself say. "HA healing. No need to-"_

_"Oh God!" Now it was the high pitched male. He felt a sudden coldness hit his back and chest. "It's not working fast enough!"_

_"Team, we need to calm down." The deep voice was strained. "He's nowhere near stable enough to zeta out of here. We just need to-"  
_

_"CALL FLASH!" It was the other male, the one that was usually so very calm, albeit pissed off at something. "He should know something about this...whatever this is!" Noise all around him as bodies shuffled. The strong warmth that encased him was gone. Were the footsteps getting fainter? _Guys, don't leave me_, he cried out. His voice couldn't work though. All he could do was sit there, no sight, no company, no sense of what was happening..._

* * *

"Sweetie, wake up." His eyes fluttered sleepily at the sound of his adopted mom -no, Dinah's- voice. He drowsily pulled out his phone and looked at the time. 4:53 A.M.

"Oh God, I've really been out of it. Is Batman here?"

"You missed it. We couldn't wake you up, so he carried into the jet. We're here already." He felt his face flush. _Batman_ had to carry him. _Oh God, I hope it wasn't bridal style. _His face flushed further at the thought.

Scott sat up and looked around. They obviously weren't in the car anymore. It seemed like they were underground somewhere, but the place looked like a teenage hangout, complete with a large TV and a kitchen. He was tucked under a mossy green blanket, and he was lying on what felt like a couch. "Where _exactly_ is _here_?"

"Come with me. Batman's ready to debrief us." She got up, avoiding eye contact with Scott. "He doesn't like waiting, and he'll probably answer your questions better than I can.

* * *

Scott couldn't bring himself to look at the imposing figure standing in front of his standing. Thankfully, there was a waterfall crashing down behind him, so he looked away and pretended to be totally engrossed in the cascade. Though seriously, who puts a waterfall in a room?

"Northton." He felt his muscles stiffen in fear. Sure, Batman was super-cool on TV and in the news, but he really made you want to crap your pants. "Black Canary has informed me that your powers have returned. However, I am not sure of how informed you are on your situation. What do you know, and what do you have questions about?"

Scott still couldn't look at him. "Aren't you gonna sit down?" he asked, chuckling weakly. He swore he could feel the Batman's eyes narrow behind the mask.

"I prefer standing, if that's okay with you. Look, if you're going to waste my time, I-"

"Wait!" Scott turned from the waterfall and faced the Batman, staring straight into his cowl. He nearly crapped his pants as the vigilante's mouth hardened into a thin line. "Why? Why would you put me through all this? Why did I have to lose all my memories." His voice had dropped to a whisper. "Speaking of memories, what jackass rewrote mine. The orphanage, the bullying...why would anyone put me through that? I mean...it's not like that was my life before, right?"

Batman narrowed his eyes and stared directly at the teen. Scott felt himself melting on the inside. _Oh God, what was I thinking. You don't speak to Batman like that. Holy crap, what if he's the one who rewrote my memories!_ "That's classified information," he finally said. "But I can shed some light onto your...predicament.

"The Speed Force is the source from which you, like many other speedsters, draw your power. The Flash gained the ability to tap into the Speed Force through a lab accident. You read his notes and recreated the experiment with the intention of gaining powers. This left you in the hospital for nearly a month.

"As you can tell, you gained your powers, but at a price. We did not discover this until later, but the Speed Force was not meant to be handled by your unstable teenage body. It hyper-accelerated your metabolism, and this worsens the more you rely on the Speed Force. Without your massive caloric intake, your body will eventually eat itself.

"While, that can be handled with caution, another problem arose. The more you used the Speed Force, the faster you got. Projected growth shows that you may eventually be faster than the Flash." Scott's face perked at the words. Faster than the fastest man alive? "Your speed comes from vibrating your atoms, but at incredibly fast speeds, you may vibrate out of control. We aren't sure how it would work, but you could vibrate yourself out of existence if you go to fast.

"You're unstable, kid. We can't risk your atoms vibrating you into nonexistence. That's why the League decided on a total mindwipe and relocation. We thought that if we left you without memory of how to use the Speed Force, you couldn't use it, eliminating this problem altogether. It worked, but only temporarily.

"Somehow, you tapped into your memories...we're still trying to figure that part out, but until them, avoid using superspeed _at all costs_."

Scott was silent for a few moments before letting out a low whistle. "That's a lot to take in, sir." _Wait, was that a smile?_

"It sure is, kid. I'll leave you to ruminate on that if you want."

"Wait!" Batman stopped mid-turn. "Uhh..." He felt like an idiot now. "Well. if Dinah, never adopted me, who is she?"

The blonde woman nodded her head in assent. "Black Canary, Team den mother and member of the Justice League." She stepped forward. "Told ya, mama's cooler than you think."

Scott gaped at her for a few moments, which felt much longer for him, before snapping back to Batman. "Who are you?"

"That's classified." Well, duh.

"Uhh...who was I? I mean, before all this?"

"That's classified."

"Who the hell decides what's classified around here!"

"I do," Batman interjected. _Well shit_ Scott thought.

"...So what happens next? I mean, all your experimenting and whatnot can only be done for so long." He turned his eyes to his hands, if only to break the Batglare. "Do I become a superhero or a lab rat?"

Batman and Dinah looked at each other. They exchanged meaningful stares and nods in different directions before Dinah finally spoke. "That's still up in the air. Until then, you're staying here in Mount Justice." His eyes widened at the mention of his location. "Yes, _the _Mount Justice, as in the former base of the JLA." She glanced at Batman, who nodded his head encouragingly. "Errrr, there are some others that live here..." She tried to gauge his response, but his face was blank. "We'd actually rather that you _not_ have contact with them until the League is in agreement on how to handle your situation."

Scott just shrugged in acknowledgement. It's not like he was missing anything. He doubted they mattered anyways.

But oh, how wrong he was.

* * *

**Crap chapter is crap...I just wanted to get the story moving to the next part, which required some info dumping. Sorry if it reads unappealingly, but now you have some background and context.**

**Err...at this point, I'm assuming you understand what's going on, so these next few chapters should be better about development and story progression. I apologize for any suckiness, and I sincerely BEG for constructive criticism.**


	3. Chapter 3

Hehe, finally updated. Umm, I have some other stuff I need to get written, so updating this might be slow...sorry.

* * *

Scott lay in his room, trying to figure out what the hell just happened to him. He had slept long enough during the trip, so he was now wide awake at...he checked his phone. It was now 5:42. Turning onto his side, he stared at the rocky, unadorned wall. For the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn't feeling twitchy or overly energetic. If anything, he just felt dead. He may have looked like he was taking all the information thrown at him calmly, but he felt like his world was destroying itself.

He felt trapped in a nightmare. The Justice League, Earth's protectors, had wiped his memories totally clean and left him...whatever the hell was taking space in his head. He always knew they were powerful (only a few very dangerous and/or stupid people doubted their power), but...to this extent? If they could exert that much control over his life...he knew they were the good guys, but it was still scary.

Which led him down another train of thought: his memories, or lack thereof. He was pretty sure that the past twenty-four hours were real, but beyond that? He thought back to all the suffering he endured at the hands of his classmates over the year. That _had _to be real, right?. He pulled off his hoodie and T-shirt, tossing them aside so he could stare at his torso, search for the incriminating marks that would confirm that even this little part of him was real...

...but they weren't there. They had healed and faded away, an effect of the hyper-accelerated healing. Scott turned to face the wall and kicked it hard. He remembered a time when he hated those marks and bruises, hating them because they were a sign of weakness and isolation. Now he just wanted them back, wanted some proof that not everything he knew was a lie...

_A and robotic, but a female?Too muffled to make out actual words. Wait, more voices? _Scott sat up and walked towards the door. He inched closer, trying to make out the words they were saying. The door automatically slid open, and Scott nearly fell forward. He barely managed to throw his arm out to catch himself against the wall. It echoed deafeningly in the empty halls, or maybe it was just his paranoia.

"-xhausted! 'Run-of-the-mill gangsters' my ass!" _That voice...it's so familiar. Could it really be...no, they're figments of my imagi-_

"It would be in everyone's best interest if we all just go to bed now. Perhaps in a few hours, we can recap our mission and I can write a report to Batman." _Figments of the imagination usually don't have voices outside of my head._ Scott stepped outside, but suddenly remembered that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Though there really wasn't much to see—what with the bruises faded away—he wasn't really comfortable with the thought of walking out with his torso all bare and freckly. Besides, Mount Justice was a lot colder than he thought it would be.

Quickly pulling on his T-shirt and hoodie back on, he stepped carefully beyond the threshold of the door. He held his position for a moment, praying to _God_ that Batman and Mom—Black Canary, he reminded himself—didn't rig the place with booby traps. After an agonizing twenty seconds, he decided that it was safe for him to continue moving. He padded down the hall towards the voices, hoping that they wouldn't hear his footsteps.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the speedster, someone had already picked up on his movement. Conner turned away from his Team, which was currently venting about their latest mission, towards one of the hallways. He was sure that he heard a heartbeat, but it wasn't familiar. It wasn't slowing down like the rest of the team's hearts. It was speeding up, following a pattern he had heard in times of anticipation.

Looking around, he saw an old flyer lying around. He quickly scrawled _Someone approaching, stand ready _and passed it around the team. Kaldur and Robin, seeing it first, continued speaking to each other about the mission, but Kaldur made the signal to M'gann to put up the mental link. Once online, they continued conversing.

_"How did an intruder get in?"_ Zatanna asked.

_"Not sure yet, but we'll have a chance to find out when we take him down." _Robin said.

_"Who said it's a he?"_ Rocket questioned. _"It could just as easily be a girl."_

_"Yes, yes, girls can be just as dangerous as boys,"_ Conner said, frustration slipping into his tone._ "Can we please just get on with a battle plan?"_

_"Right,"_ Kaldur said, finally taking the lead. _"M'gann, go invisible and see who's coming."_ The Martian broke away, flying down the hall carefully._ "Robin, you're our first line of defense. Get up by the door and ambush. The rest of us, continue like nothing's wrong."_ He immediately made a comment about a non-existent pain in his lower back. The others murmured sympathetically as Robin deftly padded to the side of the entrance

_"Damn, would've been nice to get some long-range artillery here,"_ Robin commented off-handedly. The Team nodded, knowing that Artemis would have loved an opportunity like this. She was out with Green Arrow, and she was scheduled to zeta in around six in the morning.

_"Miss Martian, any visual on the intruder?"_Aqualad asked.

_"Pretty sure it's a male, but I can't see his face. Wearing a hoodie, and I can't risk getting any closer without him sensing me. Coming out."_Their trained eyes saw the slight shift in the air as Miss Martian came out of the hall. Robin silently fished through his utility belt, settling on a pair of batarangs for ambush.

As the intruder got closer to the entrance, he started pushing closer to the wall, trying and failing to blend into the shadows. He also pressed on the wall close to Robin. The Boy Wonder chuckled to himself. _Too easy_ he thought.

_That does not mean we should not exercise caution_Kaldur reminded him. Aloud, Raquel detailed one of their fight scenes, sound effects included as she swung at the air around them.

Robin was practically bouncing. He was itching to attack whoever managed to get in. M'gann hovered slightly over the entrance, ready to intervene in the unlikely event Robin was overwhelmed. _He's in prime position to attack. Stand ready, Robin._

Robin saw the edge of a mustard yellow hoodie. He briefly thought of his old friend, how he was the only one who could stand that color. Pushing the thoughts out of his head, he waited a couple seconds before…_Now!_

* * *

Scott was so _sure_ he was being stealthy enough to avoid being seen, despite the garishly colored jacked. One moment, he was "stealthily" observing the group gathered around the couch; before he knew it, a foot flew out of his blind spot, hitting him square in the chest. He let out an "OOF!" of surprise as he hit the ground. His head hit the ground first, hissing in pain. The sudden exposure to light blinded him. His arms flew to his face, effectively blocking out the lights. He felt the arms being jerked away though, exposing his visage to the smaller brunette leaning over him.

"Take that, you—Wally?"

Scott's immediate reaction was to try to force the boy off him. Despite his lightness, the kid was hard to budge and—_ohmigodisthatRobin_!? The most famous sidekick ever leaned in close, their noses mere inches away. Even behind the opaque lenses, Scott could feel the boy's eyes narrowing, searching him for signs of…something.

A girl materialized behind Robin. She was pretty, even with the Martian-green skin. He vaguely remembered seeing a few posts about a possible Martian Manhunter sidekick, but he'd dismissed them as rumors. Her eyes widened, surprise and some other emotion passing through her face. Robin turned around and caught her eye, and the two exchanged looks of…was that fear?

Suddenly, more people were surrounding them. He felt a strong pair of hands grab him firmly by the rib cage, and all of a sudden, he was lifted upright, staring down at a strange gathering of what looked like teens. The one holding him was black-haired and had strong, chiseled features. Pale blue eyes narrowed, as if analyzing him on an atomic level. Beside him was a dark-skinned teen, only slightly smaller than the one holding him up. Turning slightly, he saw two girls, one Caucasian in a Vegas-magician-style suit and the other in a—wait, does that other guy have _gills_? Wally felt his feet touch the floor once again

"Wally!" The black-haired magician girl crushed him into a hug. "You're finally back!"

"Boy, where've you been?" the African-American girl asked. Though her tone was annoyed, she was smiling in relief. Scott felt his throat close up; he couldn't respond, couldn't protest against their mistake.

"It it good to see you, my friend," the gilled-guy said. While he didn't step forward to hug him, he shot Scott a knowing look and a warm grin.

"Yeah, it's been weird without you around," the massive teen finally said. Scott turned to the source of the voice and looked up at him. He stared hard into the face; honestly, he swore he'd seen it before, he just couldn't place where exact—

"Superman! That's it, you look like Superman!" Before he could even censor his thoughts, the words had slipped past his lips. The chattering around him died down, and everybody looked to the big guy with the S-shield on his chest. _Oh crap, he'sgonna laser me out of existence_. The look of anger passed away, switching for a look of you-have-got-to-be-shitting-me.

"Damn, did you get knocked on the head or something. Robin, I think Kid Forgetful here is a bit rusty on names." The black girl laughed at her joke. Robin, who had been pushed back by the others, forced out a chuckle.

"Heh, yeah. Maybe hit a few too many walls on his way over."

"So where the hell have you been?" the magician asked. Scott didn't respond. He stared blankly at them, processing his thoughts as fast as he could. He was almost completely sure that these were the voices in his head, but it wasn't quite right. Something felt like it was missing…

"Look, I'm sorry, I think you have the wro—"

_"Recognize Artemis B07."_ A silhouette appeared in the hole in the wall. As the light dimmed away, a blond girl decked in green superhero garb stepped out, carrying a bow and an empty quiver of arrows.

"Fuck, I'm beat!" She threw the gear on the floor, vaulting over the side of the couch to lie down. She closed her eyes, letting out a moan of relief at the end of a hard day's—or night's—work. "You guys just get back?"

Nobody replied because nobody was sure how. Robin and the alien girl traded worried looks. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, a tad jittery about the turn of events. Everybody clustered around Scott was silent, until the magician girl finally broke the tension.

"Arty, guess what? We have a special guest~" She sang the last bit enticingly, hoping to get the archer to look up.

In response, the blonde groaned. "Who the hell is it now? It's too early in the morning slash late at night for guests!" Scott twitched nervously. The girl, "Arty", was pretty intimidating, and she wasn't really in a good mood.

"You have to look up and see~"

"Alright, fine." She pushed herself into a sitting position, turning so Scott and the people around him could see the look of irritation on her face. "Who's this bigshot you've been—" Scott heard a sharp intake of breath as she spotted him. He tried to duck behind the Superman lookalike without making too much of a scene. Scott could practically hear the turmoil beneath the surface.

"Wally?" She leapt up from the couch, running to him. Scott panicked and tried to weave away, but he ran into the gilled one. Before he could recover, she had grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him to face her straight in the eyes.

"Holy crap, it is you…" Her voice cracked, as if she was about to cry. She leaned in, as if analyzing every freckle on his face, every mark that might denote who the _hell_ he was. Scott leaned in slightly, unsure if she was trying to kiss him. He leaned in slightly as if to meet her halfway, but she shoved him hard. Everyone sidestepped to avoid getting caught in the tangle, wincing at the echo of the impact.

"YOU SICK BASTARD! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" She stepped forward, kicking him in the stomach; he cried out pathetically. Everybody winced, but nobody was brave enough to step forward and defend him."DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I FUCKING WAITED FOR YOU? IT HAS BEEN A YEAR. A _YEAR_."

Scott managed to push himself up slightly. He raised his arm to protect himself, but to no avail; she picked him up only to bodily throw him back to the ground. Scott tried not to cry out like a sissy; she was worse than even the jackasses from school "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, DISAPPEARING ALL OF A SUDDEN LIKE THAT? WHERE YOU EVEN THINKING! DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE _TEAM_? DID YOU THINK ABOUT _ME_? GOD, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!"

She had finally stopped beating him senselessly. Her hits using less force, to the point which they didn't even hurt. Scott lowered his arms, which were protectively crossed across his face. It wasn't very pretty: the girl was sobbing hard, trembling violently with each choking cry. Scott slowly brought his arms to his sides, but his fists had yet to unball themselves. She threw herself forward into his chest, this time without enough force to knock him down, and sobbed into it.

"Fuck, I just really missed you," she whispered hoarsely. "You're an idiot, Wally, but you're my idiot." Scott could feel her tears seep through the jacket, and he almost put his arms around her. He wanted to comfort her, hold her to him, tell her everything is alright.

But he gently pushed her away. He looked into her eyes (_Asiatic? Strange…)_ "I-I'm not Wally," he finally choked out. Scott stepped backwards, pulling away awkwardly from the crowd around him. "I-I've gotta go." He ran away, unable to face their happy looks any longer.

He could hear them call after him "Wally! Wally!" But he didn't turn back. He couldn't pretend that he was kidding, that he really was this Wally character they claimed he was. He felt tears prick the corner of his eyes, but he rubbed his eyes, hoping they'd hold back. Instead, he felt them leak down his face. He stifled the sobs as he blindly made his way back to his room. The door slid open for him, and he sprinted in, collapsing on the bed and burying his face away from the world.

_I'm not Scott Northton; I'm not Wally. Who the hell am I?_

* * *

Back in the open area, the Team stood awkwardly, unsure of how to interpret the recent chain of events. Everybody seemed loath to move.

Finally, M'gann turned slightly, looking at Artemis. "Artemi—"

Artemis dropped to the ground, sobbing hard. The others jumped in surprise, flinching away slightly at the violent sobs. They were all trying to think of adequate words to comfort her, ways to tell her that everything would be okay. But there weren't enough words; they themselves didn't even know what had just happened. All they could do was watch distantly, comforting her from a distance.

Kaldur finally stepped forward, stooping to the ground to hold her. His warm, muscular arms engulfed her, and she turned into his chest, getting snot and tears all over the foreign material. It was smooth against her face, and the tears slid off, dripping to the ground. Slowly, Zatanna stepped forward, putting her arms around the two of them. The rest of the Team stepped forward, holding each other, muffling Artemis's cries.

Only Robin stepped apart. He backed up silently, escaping notice from the team. He made his way to the main computer, sending a paging tone to Batman. After a minute or two, the Caped Crusader came on screen. "What is going on?"

"Wally. He's back." Robin was surprised that his voice worked at all. "A-at least it looks like him. How did he—"

"It is indeed Wally West." Robin's eyes widened behind his mask. "His memories are slowly coming back. I'm not entirely sure how they came back or to what extent, but we need to stem them from unlocking any further. I know this is hard on you and your Team, but you cannot act like he's the same friend you had a year ago. He doesn't see himself as your team member, and you cannot treat him as such. He's fully accepted the memory set planted in his brain. Forcing this other identity onto him wouldn't be fair."

"But, Batman..." He was at a loss for an argument though. It made sense, and it killed him to admit so. "I mean, yes sir."

Batman's look softened. "We have to take this one step at a time. The situation is unprecedented, so we have to proceed with caution." He signed off before Robin could reply.

* * *

Shit ending is shit. Oh well, please review and tell me how I'm doing. I promise I'll get to updating sometime.

For the record, I have no idea who I'm going to ship Wally/Scott with, if at all. Current ideas will lead to Spitfire or Birdflash, but I want reader input. What do you guys want to see?


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